


Infinite Tricks

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, BAMF Stiles, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Crack, Dogs, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Kid Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:56:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles’ spark allows him to create infinite pockets, which means he gets up to infinite mischief.





	Infinite Tricks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveyProphet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyProphet/gifts).
  * Translation into Français available: [Méfaits infinis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661768) by [Thecrasy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecrasy/pseuds/Thecrasy)



Stiles sat on the seat next to his father’s desk, dressed in a long sleeve shirt and a thick puffer vest. His Batman backpack – that was as big as he was – rested against the leg of his chair. He swung his legs back and forth beneath the chair, waiting as patiently as he could for his dad.

He took another bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich as his eyes rolled around the room, taking in everything he had seen before. His eyes focused on the plaque that sat on his father’s desk: Deputy J Stilinski.

The bullpen was full of quiet chatter as the deputies answered phone calls or talked quietly with each other over cases.

 “Stiles,” his dad said, stepping over to his side. “The puppy from the K9 unit has gone missing, do you know where it went?”

“No,” Stiles said, looking up at his dad with doe eyes.

“Alright,” his dad said, raking his fingers through his hair. He turned slightly, looking around the bullpen. He paused, turning back to look at his son. His brow furrowed with confusion. “Stiles? Where did you get that sandwich?”

“From my pocket,” Stiles said innocently.

“Huh,” John muttered. He crouched in front of his son. “And you haven’t seen the puppy?”

Stiles shook his head.

A quiet bark interrupted them, coming from Stiles’ jacket pocket and muffled slightly.

“Mieczysław,” his father said warningly.

Stiles bowed his head. He carefully set his sandwich down on the edge of his father’s desk and shuffled off the chair and onto his feet. The soles of his shoes lit up, flashing bright colours as the boy straightened himself and tugged at his jacket sleeves with his chubby hands. He pulled his jacket off and carefully – meticulously – laid it down on the floor before reaching into the pocket.

His eyes lit up with a flash of white as his hand sank further into his jacket, is if reaching through the coat and into a hole in the floor. He pulled out the German Shepard puppy that was nearly as big as he was, the dog’s legs dangling as Stiles struggled to hold him. He hugged the puppy and looked up at his dad sheepishly.

The puppy squirmed out of his arms, running in circles around the boy before stopping to sit beside him and let the boy run his little hands through his soft fur.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said quietly.

His dad couldn’t help but smile as he reached out and gently tousled his son’s hair. “I know you love him, kiddo. But he’s training to work with the police and needs to go home with his trainer. Maybe if you’re good, we’ll get a dog one day, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles mumbled.

“Do you want to walk him back to his trainer?” his dad asked.

Stiles nodded.

John picked up Stiles’ jacket, holding out his other hand to his son.

The puppy happily walked beside them as they made their way out the back of the police station where a man stood, looking around. When he saw the puppy, his shoulders dropped with relief.

The puppy galloped over to the man who knelt down to pet him.

Stiles shuffled forward, wringing his hands anxiously.

“I’m really sorry,” Stiles said quietly, looking down at his feet.

The man smiled at the boy. “You know, Bear – here – could use a friend. Maybe you can come and play with him after he’s finished training?”

Stiles’ eyes widened as he looked from the man to his dad. “Can I?”

John smiled and gently tousled his son’s hair. “Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “We’ve got to go home now, so say goodbye.”

Stiles gently pet the dog’s head before walking back over to his dad’s side.

John held out his jacket, helping him put his arms through the sleeves and shrug the jacket on. He held his hand out for Stiles.

Stiles took his dad’s hand, glancing over his shoulder and waving goodbye to the trainer and Bear.

“Stiles,” his father started slowly, keeping his voice quiet as he helped his son into the car seat in the back of his cruiser.

“I was naughty, I know,” Stiles said, his voice riddled with guilt.

“I think you and your mum need to have a talk about how you use your special powers,” John said softly. He ruffled his son’s hair, smiling sweetly before shutting the door and climbing into the driver’s seat.

 

 

Stiles was thrown backwards. His body hit something solid, knocking the air from his lungs as he fell to the ground.

He coughed, gasping for air as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. He reached out, grabbing at the iron lettering of the BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL plaque and pulling himself up to his feet.

He ran the back of his hand across his face, wiping away the stream of blood that dripped from his nose.

“Alright, you son of a bitch,” he growled.

The Alpha turned, tilting its head as its glowing red eyes watched Stiles with curiosity.

The teen’s eyes lit up with a flash of white as he buried his hand in his pocket and drew out a baseball bat. “Come at me!”

The Alpha howled, baring its teeth as it dug it’s claws into the dirt and charged at Stiles.

Stiles held up the bat and swung.

There was a sickening crack as the metal bat collided with the Alpha’s jaw, knocking them aside.

The Alpha hit the ground, letting out a weak groan as its eyes fell shut. Its hair began to recede as its body morphed back into its human form.

Stiles took a step forward, his hands aching as he tightened his grip on the baseball bat and craned his neck to look at the man.

The dull glow of the streetlight that hung over them lit up the man’s face, the skin rippled with burns and scars that were still healing. HIs long brown hair falling forward over his face.

“Peter,” Stiles gasped. He took a step back, looking at Scott with a stunned expression. “The Alpha is Peter Hale.”

He turned to look at Derek.

The young man stared back at him with an expression of shock and confusion.

“How—?” Derek stammered.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I mean, your sister was the Alpha. Peter killed her and took—”

“No,” Derek interrupted. “The bat. Where did you get the bat from?”

“My pocket,” Stiles said matter-of-factly.

“ _How_?” Derek squawked. “How do you fit a baseball bat in your pocket?!”

“Infinite pockets,” Stiles answered.

“No, don’t say that like it’s obvious,” Derek said, growing more frustrated the more confused he was. “Don’t say that like it’s normal!”

Stiles’ brow furrowed with confusion. A second later his eyes widened. “Oh, right, you don’t know. I’m a spark.”

“A spark,” Derek repeated back.

“Yeah,” Stiles said. He slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a PB and J sandwich. “I’ve been doing this since I was three.”

“So you can just pull anything out of your pocket?” Derek asked, his brows knitted together in though.

“Pretty much,” Stiles said. He smirked as he held up his sandwich. “Endless PB and Js.”

 

 

“Hey, dad,” Stiles said, stepping through the Sheriff’s open office door.

His dad glanced up from the paperwork on his desk, a bright smile lighting up his face. It fell a second alter when he realised why Stiles was there.

“Right, dinner,” He said, trying to sort through the mess of papers and photographs and stack he folders. “I’m so sorry, I got so caught up in this case that I lost track of time.”

“It’s alright,” Stiles said. “We can wait… or reschedule.”

“No, no, no,” his father said. “Just give me five minutes.”

“Okay.”

Stiles turned back to where Derek stood in the bullpen.

Derek held his hand out to him, pulling Stiles into his arms.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something when he was interrupted by a quiet bark.

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles said excitedly. His face lit up with a bright smile as he stepped out of Derek’s arms and dropped to his knees, holding out his arms for the dog that bounded over to his side.

The dog bounded into his arms, curling up against him as he wiggled with excitement and licked at Stiles’ face. He rolled onto his back and let Stiles rub his belly.

Stiles’ eyes flashed white for a second – almost missable – as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a dog treat, holding it out for Achilles to eat. He patted the dog, talking quietly to him. “How have you been, boy?”

“Do _not_ try and smuggle a fully-grown German Shepard out of the station,” his father said warningly.

“It didn’t work the first time,” Stiles uttered, pouting.

“Wait, you tried to smuggle a dog?” Derek asked.

“I was four years old and the dog was only a few months old. He was still little—and it would have worked if he hadn’t had barked,” Stiles said defensively. He smiled as he scratched at the dog’s fluffy cheeks. “Have you been a good boy?”

“Very good,” his trainer answered. “It’s his last week before retirement.”

“You’re retiring him?” Stiles asked, shocked.

“He’s nine years old,” his trainer – James – said.

“What?” He looked at Achilles. “When did you get so old?”

The dog licked his face, making Stiles chuckle.

“We’re trying to line up a place for him to go,” James told him. “I can’t take him home with me; my backyard’s not big enough and I spend to much time at work to give him the attention he needs.”

Stiles let in a sharp gasp, excited.

“No,” his dad called out from his office.

Stiles’ shoulders fell. “But you promised we’d get a dog one day.”

“I know,” John said. “But our backyard isn’t big enough either, kiddo.”

“I can take him.”

They all turned to look at Derek.

“I live on acres of land and I work from home, so I can give him the attention he needs,” he said, crouching down next to Stiles and petting Achilles. “I’d have to get food, toys, bedding, and all that stuff, but I’d be happy to take him in.”

“What do you say, Achilles?” Stiles asked, watching as he nuzzled up to Derek lovingly. “I’d say that’s a yes.”

A soft smile played across Derek’s lips.

Stiles leant over and pressed a soft kiss to Derek’s cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
